


Soon We Will Be Enemies

by Inappropriateggplant



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anxious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Aziraphale's Flaming Sword (Good Omens), BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), Blood and Violence, Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Chubby Aziraphale (Good Omens), Dry Humping, Dubious Consent, Fondling, Grinding, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Light Bondage, M/M, Making an Effort (Good Omens), Nipple Play, Oblivious Aziraphale and Crowley (Good Omens), One Shot, Possessive Crowley, Pre-Canon, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Scene: Garden of Eden (Good Omens), Service Top Crowley (Good Omens), Sneak Crowley, Strength Kink, Strong Aziraphale (Good Omens), Thirsty Crowley (Good Omens), Unresolved Sexual Tension, well partially
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:14:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24962131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inappropriateggplant/pseuds/Inappropriateggplant
Summary: Aziraphale faces one of the monstrous creatures trickling in from Hell now that sin has been brought into the world, guarding Adam and Eve behind his back. He uses his sword for the first and only time in his existence, and Crawly watches from the shadows with great interest.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 24
Kudos: 200
Collections: Ixnael’s Recommendations





	Soon We Will Be Enemies

Dark clouds should be covering the sky, Crawly thinks. It should be overcast; the skies should be boiling with the threat of rain, or perhaps emptying an entire day's worth of water over the land. It shouldn't be this bright and warm all around him, outlining every soft angle he has his eyes set on, angles that've been turned sharp with stress.

Aziraphale is standing in front of him, facing away with an expression of pure rage. He's shaking, twitching and shivering with stress as his body struggles to breathe, whether he needs it or not. The air seems to trapping in his lungs like a bony cage before he lets it go a moment later, every sound of his exhales akin to a soft growl. He feels more fear than he's ever experienced before, and is trying to process it as quickly as possible before the next blow sends him backwards to the ground. 

He could've easily solved this ordeal with a miracle, if he yet knew how to use them. All he has is a flaming sword, albeit an impressive weapon, if he knew how to use that as well. Everything is new to him, unused to the cruel nature of Hell or Earth. All he knows is love and peace.

"Stop right there, beast!" he yells, aiming his blade at a towering demon above them; they're starting to trickle in from Hell now that Earth is, to put it bluntly, free real estate. Crawly's been hoping for at least a compliment for tempting the humans into biting the apple, but so far all his peers seem to want to do is run amok. Hell will put them back in check soon enough, force them through mountains of paperwork for getting out of hand, but for the time being they carelessly gouge their claws into anything that'll bleed and make the most embarrassing displays of intimidation to earn a fearful reaction. They've certainly got one this time. He can smell the angel's anxiety even from here.

The demon peers down at them with brittle razors in place of eyes, teeth lining every fingertip. By all due respects, a terrible designing error. The bastard will learn the art of craftsmanship soon enough, or at least the beauty of taking the form of a simple animal. It's not at all inconspicuous. You couldn't expect to gain the trust of anyone in a vessel like that, and the only way to move about is to waddle around all those knife-like appendages. Still, good old Vein-head doesn't give a damn, surging forward and opening a jaw that looks more like a chasm of the Earth. The inside of it glows, and blood oozes out from where it's had its first snack of a poor, unsuspecting lion. _Show-off._

Crawly breathes a sigh, starting to gather his coils up in a tight ball to strike for its throat. He'll put a stop to this, or else She might just end up discorporating every demon on Earth to teach them a lesson. There's no way these humans stand any chance, and though they've just been cast out of Eden like they've committed mass genocide or something of the sort, She most likely still savors them. They're the first humans She's made, after all.

He stops. Aziraphale has just sunken his sword into the gnarly flesh of the beast, holding its head (or what he assumes is its head) down with an enormous amount of strength. He can see muscle working to contain its monstrous flails, wording things with his mouth as he squeezes his eyes shut and plunges his weapon deeper. _Squish. Pop. Snap._

Fire is searing through mangled skin, melting tissue and burning a hole deep in the demon's core. 

Crawly is speechless. Quite literally, still unsure of how to speak in this form, but if he currently had the ability to talk, shout, scream...he'd still shut himself up. He watches the body of the demon ripple a few times with a few last sputters of energy before dissolving in the heat of the sword. Within the next minute, the beast has more or less disappeared into nothing, a blood-tinged heap of bony goo that he scrunches his nose at. _Not bad,_ he thinks, _not bad at all._

Then he looks at Aziraphale.

The angel...he's looking worse for wear. His clothes are covered in blood and trails of gore, the muscle under his arms is spasming. Sweat drips off his body from the heat, his broad shoulders not even beginning to relax. His body is soft, deceptively so, so that one can't see just how much strength he possesses beneath a very _squeezable_ looking layer of fat.

He's panting so loud Crawly can hear it over the sound of flames spotting the last of sinew, whimpering as he sees what he's done. That moment of weakness only lasts for a moment, as he remembers the presence of the humans behind him and puts on a brave face. 

\---

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." he breathes, huddling down to the level of the humans with a sympathetic gaze. "I've been tasked with sending you out of Eden, but...the world...as you see, it's not going to be as kind to you as this garden. There are dangers lurking everywhere you turn, and you have to be on your guard."

Adam nods, though he's holding his shaking lover close and whispering words of comfort as they realize their life of peace and happiness has come to an end. "I'd take this all back if I could, all of it. You two don't deserve this much of a punishment...but if She thinks it's best, well, it must be for your own good somehow." He looks down to the bloated belly of the woman, eyes growing even softer. He shifts uncomfortably from side to side, looking down at his weapon and back to her. She looks so scared, so vulnerable. She's just lost everything she knew. "I...I think you should take this. I know it's not much, but it can keep you warmer, safer. It can melt the flesh of an attacker within seconds if you can find it in yourself to strike- and you must. You must remember how precious your lives are."

Adam stares at it in disbelief, mouthing a few words to his lover. "Is this alright? Are you allowed to give this to us?"

"Oh, yes, of course! Standard edition in Heaven, they hand it out by the _millions_. Not losing anything whatsoever. You're free to take it." the angel lies blatantly, the sides of his smile twitching as he realizes what he's just done. "Please, have my blessing and be on your way. There's still time before the rain starts."

"Thank you. We owe you our lives." they both stutter in nearly perfect unison, picking up the sword together in wonder. 

"It's really no bother, my dears. It's my duty, and the least I can do after all this unpleasantness...please, be careful. Please." They nod, padding hand-in-hand to the towering gates, starting the long trek through the desert to whatever settlement they'll decide to create for themselves, doubtlessly predicted in manuscripts yet to be written.

Crawly isn't watching the humans. He's watching the angel. Aziraphale's smile is wavering, as he looks down to his bloody hands and finally feels the effects of the experience kick in. He sinks to the grass, curling his arms over his knees and starts to sniffle.

\---

"Please forgive me...please forgive me...please forgive me..." Aziraphale repeats under his breathe, clutching his hands together, face bowed to the ground. "Don't be angry with me. I didn't mean to kill anything. Please forgive me." _Ha_. As if She's listening to anything, stubborn as She is.

Maybe Crawly only thinks that because he'd prefer to think the two of them were alone right now. He's slithering up through the bushes, trying to get a better view of the angel. The night is warm and only the half-moon provides a bit of light. He's thankful of it; it paints Aziraphale's skin in a milky hue, contouring the lines of meat beneath.

"Please let them go unharmed. They don't deserve to suffer. Please, mother, please." _Mother_. How cute. Still calling Her that like She won't throw him away like the others if he so much as blinks the wrong way. 

Well then, perhaps he's waited long enough to make an appearance. Perhaps the angel could use comfort. He was good at that...er, assumed he was. He was about to find out either way.

His scales drag along the soil, weaving around trees and shrubs, locking Aziraphale in his vision. He's quiet, hardly making a noise as he nears, but the angel is alert.

"Who's there?! Stay back, I am not afraid to-" he looks down at his hands, extended like he's holding a weapon. He instead shifts them into fists, glaring into the darkness. "I am _not_ afraid to beat you into nothing, vermin! Leave now and you'll keep your skin." Charming. He doesn't believe a word of it. Aziraphale is shaking like a blade of glass on a windy day, a hairs-length away from curling up into himself out of fear. That's awfully strange coming from someone who can easily smite him with a snap of the finger, someone who so recently discriminated one of his co-workers into demonic mush.

He's a little hesitant to make himself known, considering the fact that he might meet the same fate himself if the angel is jumpy enough to just kill anything that moves in his line of vision, or he'll sense the fact that he's masquerading as a reptile, but either way it's too late to worry about that now. He doesn't really have a choice.

Crawly slides out from his hiding place behind a tree smoothly, body long and large- he might've realized he's a little _too_ large in this current configuration, but well, Earth was so new nobody could really say a snake couldn't reach this size. 

The angel blinks at him, tilting his head a little. Then he lets out a deep laugh straight from his belly. He tumbles backwards into the grass, holding his sides as he cackles in such relief Crawly jerks back, not having prepared himself for such a display of careless joy out of completely nowhere. He was expecting something more along the lines of blinding light that'd curdle his insides and wipe away any semblance of scales on his body. 

"You...oh goodness, I'm sorry, dear one. You poor thing, I didn't know you were hiding there." Crawly likes his voice. It's soft, sweet, and cheerful. Even in his stressed state, the angel has a cheeriness about him he hasn't witnessed anywhere else so far. He wanted to hear more. 

He slithers closer, pausing every few seconds to look up at him, making himself seem less threatening, as if he's a lonely, scared reptile. It seems to be working, as Aziraphale is holding out his hand invitingly. Crawly flicks out his tongue curiously against his fingertips.

"Oh dear, I look a sight, don't I?" he mumbles, peering over his ruined outfit. Crawly looked too, the view even more impressive now that he was closer. "I've had a very...difficult day." He's still shaking, teeth chattering ever so slightly. "I've done something very bad. Or good, or...oh, I don't know. I just don't _know_."

He wipes a tear that slides down from his eye, rubbing his face. "I've never felt so alone before, so out of touch with everything...ah, I suppose a serpent wouldn't understand that." He does, in fact, very well, though if he really was only a serpent he supposes he wouldn't really understand anything. "I was hoping I could rest the night and forget my troubles till morning, but I don't think I could get a wink after all that horribleness. I feel as though I can hardly breathe."

Well, that won't do, Crawly thinks ever so innocently as he draws closer, seeing something poking out from Aziraphale's chest. Two things, actually, little round nubs of some sort. They seem to be drawn out as the angel shivers, and he thinks it only logical to come nearer, inspect them a bit.

He nudges his snout at the angel's hand, flicking out his tongue to catch a whiff of his scent. It's warm, musky, not like anything else in Eden. "Oh hello there. You're not afraid? What a friendly thing you are!" He tries to sound cheerful, but his voice is wavering beneath it all. Crawly can feel the vibrations of trembles as he slides closer.

"You don't think I'm... a _bad_ angel, do you?" he whispers more to himself than the serpent, looking down in his hands that are scraped and raw. Crawly needs to get Aziraphale's mind off things. He has a few ideas. "What if She...no, what if-"

The sneak slithers up into his lap, instantly amazed at how warm and soft it is. The robe he's wearing is still a little dirty and sticky, but he hardly notices, peering up as the angel smiles gently down at him. "Aw, are you trying to make me feel better? How kind." He isn't actually sure what he's doing, if he's being honest with himself. There's so much to smell, touch, taste...he feels a little like he's wandered into a surprise sensory banquet in the middle of absolutely nowhere.

He can feel the dampness of sweat beneath the cloth, moving to wrap around the angel's waist once to get a better grip. The skin below him is so incredibly warm and _soft,_ and he wouldn't mind being Aziraphale's belt one bit. He has to maneuver a bit to get past the heavy wings, but thankfully his current form is quite flexible.

The angel leans his hands backwards on the ground to watch him, seemingly taken with the strange feeling of scales on his skin, cold, fluid and nearly boneless.

"My, you are just beautiful...such a lovely surface of skin...is this skin?" He reaches down and rubs his hand over the demon's head, which happens to feel absolutely wonderful.

He pets his snout a few times, humming. He seemed to be shaking a little bit less already. "Well, either way, I must say I'm a little bit envious. My form isn't very interesting, but it seems I attract all sorts of beasts. I'm just glad you're not one of those monsters." Ouch. 

Crawly decides to let the comment slip, looping around his stomach again, his head sliding up his back and around his neck. He tries not too feel too proud of himself, but to be fair Hell hadn't given him any sort of recognition to date, and Aziraphale seems to enjoy these new sensations very much, giggling and petting him as he goes.

"Aw, are you giving me a hug? Perhaps there is still joy in the garden after all. I was so worried all the animals lost any ounce of their love for others." _Love_. That was a strange word, one he wasn't even aware of till now. It sounds nice, so he'll keep it in his mental vocabulary to learn about later. For now, all he wants is to touch more and more, explore all that he can. His interest has been piqued.

He passes over one of those stiffened nubs, looking down from his place perched on the angel's shoulder. He feels a small shudder beneath him and grows more curious. What is it? What is its function? 

He wraps two coils around Aziraphale's chest, one above and one under his breast and _squeezes_ , making the fat bulge out more so he can get a better look. This area is especially soft, and as he dips his snout down to get a closer look at it, he can see the faintest flush of pinkness beneath the thin fabric of the robe. Very curious indeed.

"Having fun with your investigation, little one?" the angel speaks as if he isn't holding himself up under the massive weight of the serpent, who might've crushed anyone mortal. Aziraphale is incredibly strong, and while Crawly isn't too surprised considering the fact that he is the angel meant to guard over Eden, he's never seen such power accompanied by such wonderful plumpness, and the combination excites him to no end. The angel is something new, something palatable for his reserved taste.

Crawly flicks his tongue out. It isn't necessarily something he'd meant to do, more of an instinct brought on by this serpentine form of his. He's glad he did, though, senses overwhelmed all at once by taste, touch and scent. Aziraphale's smell is stronger here, he realizes, grazing his tongue again over the buds and catching a whiff of what he could only describe as _warm_. If warmth has a scent, it would be this. Soft, comforting and almost reminiscent of milk.

The angel seems oblivious to his actions, watching him move around and rub his snout into the folds of skin, licking over the tiny treasures he's found. 

"That tickles, you know." he mutters, shivering ever so slightly. "You seem awfully interested in my mammary glands. What a strange beast you are." So _that's_ what they're called. "I suppose you must be bored, seeing as you find such joy out of examining my vessel." He was chuckling, and though the sound was lovely and the rumble of it resounded straight through Crawly's coils, the demon felt a bit slighted.

 _I'll show you bored_ , he thinks.

Aziraphale jerks when the demon curls back up and slips down his robe, latching onto the breast after adjusting his fangs so the bite won't hurt much. He wants there to be a _little_ sting, show the angel a thing or two about judging the affairs of the _Tempter of Mankind._

"What-? Why you cheeky little thing, that's not food!" he attempts to laugh, squirming under the touch. He isn't trying to stop him though, and Crawly takes that as invitation to swipe his tongue out and get a better taste. 

Grass, the char of smoke leftover from cutting through flesh with such brilliant fire, the salt of sweat with a bittersweet aftertaste. Aziraphale is _delicious_ , Crawly decides, wrapping his long tongue around one of those _mammary glands_ and sliding it around in quick successions. 

Aziraphale seems confused now, making half-hearted attempts at pushing the beast away while beginning to make strange noises beneath his breath. Crawly is clever, wrapping another coil around the angel's waist and dragging himself closer, feeling the muscle beneath chubbiness tighten as his nerves react.

The beast utilizes the flexibility of his jaw to maneuver himself closer, giving up the length of his teeth in favor of having more space to clamp his mouth down. He feels the soft breast in his mouth like a prize, suctioning it down with every pulse of his body while he constricts himself around the angel.

"This feels strange, serpent..." he mumbles, gasping as another coil finds its way over his leg, forcing his legs together only after Crawly wriggles between his thighs. "I don't think my body's supposed to be t-touched like this." _That so? Then why are you leaning into me, Aziraphale, Guardian of the Eastern Gate? "_ I can find you a nice snack perhaps? Eden still has plenty of pears, and those have a particular- _mmhf!"_

Crawly slides upwards between the angel's legs, popping his mouth off in the process to lift his snout back up and flick his tongue under Aziraphale's jaw as well. The smell here isn't as pronounced, but in the somewhat hyper-sensitive state he's somehow put the angel in, he's responsive to every touch. Aziraphale flinches, shuddering wonderfully hard against him. The demon can see the sinew of his neck move as he gulps, see the dampness of it in the pearly light.

Aziraphale is whimpering quietly now, the flat surface right between his thighs twitching and starting to change in structure. There's something soft, fleshy and very deep pink blooming there, and it catches Crawly's interest as he looks down at it. He ripples his body around in a current of movement, watching Aziraphale's face contort into something surprisingly pained despite the fact that he's being careful not to squeeze too tight around him.

The angel doesn't look like he knows what it is either, peering down in surprise and reaching down to nudge a finger over it in curiosity. Crawly can't let him have all the fun, driving his coils backwards so both of them fall back into the grass. He keeps a secure hold of the angel as he begins to rub his whole body around him, sliding and squeezing, licking and biting as he goes. Everything is soft, everything is warm and sweet, and his movements are growing faster with excitement.

"My _dear_ , what in the name of Heaven are you doing-?!" he whines, writhing around under the swirls of cool scales, shuddering and clenching his muscles in a way that thrills Crawly. Now Aziraphale is fighting, but not with near the amount of strength he'd use if he really wants to escape. Just enough for the serpent to feel muscles roll and contract, lashing out his arms more into the air than against Crawly.

The sneak growls with approval and latches his mouth onto the angel's throat, feeling more soft noises rumble through him. He has absolutely no idea what he's doing, but it feels so _good_ and he knows he wants more. Aziraphale seems to as well, now using more of that impossible strength to rub himself against the scales and pull Crawly closer. 

The serpent is ecstatic as he feels those tender hands grip onto him, hearing breathy shudders and tiny mewls. Aziraphale is the most formidable thing he's discovered in all his days in Eden, and somehow he's causing the angel to cry out, though not out of displeasure at all. Aziraphale is _enjoying_ it, and that makes Crawly feel straight-up euphoric. He can see why Eden is said to be so beautiful now.

The drag of his scales over skin is becoming easier, an odd slippery coating blanketing the coil around the angel's legs adding on to the dampness of sweat he has to work with after Aziraphale's brawl, and he _utilizes_ it, shoving himself back and forth between those reddening thighs. Aziraphale clamps his legs together around it, quivering and rocking himself along with the movements with what mobility his has.

Crawly appreciated that the angel has stopped trying to speak, going into a sort of nonverbal trance right along with him as they undulate nearly in unison, the only thoughts between either of them being merely the urge to seek more of this new and strange pleasure. Aziraphale, ever so strong and kind, protector of the vulnerable, he's finally brought down to the serpent's level, communicating with him in a way he's quickly learning to understand.

No shiver, no micro-movement can escape Crawly's notice, and he's figuring out where to touch, which would get a sweet little moan or a jerk of the hips. He wants to coax out everything while he can contain Aziraphale in his cage of spirals, know everything he can before the angel comes to his senses and turns him to ash.

His scales are dripping with a strange slickness now, as he winds more and more of his body around Aziraphale, encasing him against himself, forcing him closer. The scents and flavors are driving him mad, vaguely seeing outlined marks where he's bitten into the soft flesh and feeling _proud_. He doubts any other demon could get such a paragon to submit like this. No, this angel needs to be lured in slowly, through perfectly placed touches, Crawly thinks wickedly.

All at once, Aziraphale's voice grows high and panicked, his whole body thrashing under the scales, and for a moment the demon considers letting go- but in just a few moments he angel stills. 

Crawly quickly unwinds himself, wondering if he's gone to far, held on too tightly, but Aziraphale is laying there in the center of his coils- which are an utter mess at this point- panting and staring off into nothing with a very blissful expression.

Confused, Crawly leans up to his face and flicks his tongue around his cheeks, finding a few trails of drool and the tiniest dots of tears beaded around his eyes. Aziraphale starts _laughing_ , grabbing the unsuspecting serpent's snout and rubbing his forehead against it. His face is warm and rosy, and though he's only beginning to catch his breath, he seems truly pleased.

The tension in the angel's muscles has almost fully dissolved, replaced by a relaxed limpness he finds equally appealing, body weakly shivering with every chuckle.

"I don't know what you just did to me, but...thank you, dear one. I feel so much better now, all because of you." Well, he wasn't exactly expecting _praise_ , but he won't forget the sound of those words or how they made him feel when they were uttered against him. "Did you perhaps sense my worry and come to help me calm down? You sweet thing, I think I'll actually be able to get some sleep tonight. I could certainly use it after all that's happened today." Yes, of course. That was his only intention- though he certainly hopes the angel doesn't plan on letting any other creature explore him in such a way. This is Crawly's own way of _managing_ _stress_.

Aziraphale is looking lazy, drifting backwards and letting Crawly catch him, who's starting to carefully wrap him up once more. The sneak still feels incredibly pent up, wishing more than anything to find the kind of release the angel is feeling, but decides to put the desires aside for the time being as he watches Aziraphale's eyes begin to droop shut.

Seeing such a powerful being act so vulnerably right in his clutches gives him a rush of another sensation deep inside, something much warmer than he's used to, and he gradually lets himself sink down into the long blades of grass with the angel on top of him. 

He stares at Aziraphale, tail softly swaying back and forth, unsure of exactly what to do. The chubby skin has all sorts of pink areas from where his teeth have been, and as the angel curls himself up in the scales he makes himself more and more relaxed, body stretching out comfortably. Crawly leans his snout in close against the angel's face, hesitating a moment before swiping his tongue over his slightly parted lips. 

Aziraphale smiles faintly, lifting an arm to gently pet the demon's head while he starts to doze. 

They will be enemies soon enough, Crawly knows that already, but right now he doesn't give a single damn. He'll introduce himself properly later, but currently he's enjoying the feeling of soft breathing, the tender body at the mercy of his own strength now.

**Author's Note:**

> I realized halfway through that Crowley and Aziraphale meet just as Adam and Eve are leaving the garden but shhhhhhh...it's just a teensy weensy canon rewrite (￣y▽,￣)╭


End file.
